


Try Something New, Darling

by Elizabeethan



Series: It's About Bloody Time [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:42:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26606185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeethan/pseuds/Elizabeethan
Summary: Emma Swan considers herself to be a fairly intelligent person. She was able to survive on the streets for years as a child and teenager. She was able to support herself after being released from jail at age 18. She sustained a prosperous job as a bail bondsperson. She had a nice apartment in Boston. She broke a damn curse and found her family. So yes, she considers herself to be a fairly intelligent person.So why has she been acting so stupid?Part 3 of my season 3 canon divergent series It’s About Bloody Time.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Series: It's About Bloody Time [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926880
Comments: 30
Kudos: 156
Collections: The Great Captain Swan No-Curse Renaissance





	Try Something New, Darling

Emma Swan considers herself to be a fairly intelligent person. She was able to survive on the streets for years as a child and teenager. She was able to support herself after being released from jail at age 18. She sustained a prosperous job as a bail bondsperson. She had a nice apartment in Boston. She broke a damn curse and found her family. So yes, she considers herself to be a fairly intelligent person.

So why has she been acting so _stupid_?

Early Friday morning after her birthday dinner, when she woke up feeling nauseous again and consequently ended up with her head in the toilet, she did consider going to the doctor. No bout of food poisoning should have lasted this long, and she never had a fever, so it probably wasn’t the flu. But when she opened up the cabinet under the sink to get the mouth wash and saw a box of tampons, it all came crashing down on her at once. The realization that she should have needed to use those very tampons over a week ago. The realization that she still doesn’t need to use them now.

Because guess what? When one takes a week-long trip to a magical realm and forgets to bring one’s birth control with them, one should then avoid having unprotected sex.

Absolutely stupid.

And so here she stands on this bright and sunny Monday morning, in the _family planning_ aisle of the local drug store (please, as if this was _planned_ ), hoping to whatever god might be listening that Grumpy doesn’t see her and make one of his famous announcements to the whole town.

(She can picture it now. _Terrible news! Terrible news! The Savior got knocked up by Captain Hook!)_

Should she have done this sooner? Probably. But she chose instead to spend a week and a half after putting the pieces together hoping that she would miraculously get her period, and all this worrying would have been for naught. Now that her period is _very_ late, she figures it’s probably time to take a test.

She finally opts for a two-pack so that she can remain in denial for a bit longer by taking the test again, then grabs a third just to be safe. False positives are a thing, right? Once she’s been rung out, as awkwardly as possible, she exits the store and shoves the box into the large bag she brought with her before she makes her way to Granny’s. If she’s going to pee on a stick three times in a row, she’ll need some fluids. And if she’s about to find out that she’s been knocked up, she’s going to need some comfort in the form of hot chocolate.

“Hey Emma!” Ruby calls from the kitchen when she arrives, hurrying out to meet her.

“Hi Rubes,” she responds, trying her hardest to plaster on a smile. She’s been chewing on her bottom lip so much lately that she thinks it cracks.

“Hot chocolate?”

“Please.”

“Want me to bring it over to Lover-Boy’s table?” she asks with a smirk, and Emma freezes before turning around in the direction Ruby was facing and sees Hook, dressed still in his modern wardrobe and sitting alone at a table nursing a coffee.

_Shit._ Not ready. Back up. Abort mission.

Of course, Ruby must have spoken too loudly, because Hook glances up and catches her gaze before shooting her an earth shattering, ovary exploding grin.

The very grin that she’s been evading for over a week now.

Rather than answering Ruby, Emma takes a deep breath and swallows the lump in her throat, then heads over to his table and takes a seat across from him.

“Hi,” she greets shakily.

“Morning love,” he responds, his smile faltering the slightest bit at the tone of her voice, but still successfully killing her from the inside out. “Finally feeling better today?”

_Fuck_ , she thinks. Leave it to him to inadvertently guilt her for avoiding him. Not by accusing her of doing so, but by evidently understanding why she’s been so absent. Now is certainly an opening for her to tell him what’s going on, or what she suspects is going on. (Who is she kidding, though? There’s almost no doubt in her mind that she is currently carrying his child.) “Not that much,” she finally says.

His face falls, brows drawing close together and mouth sporting a perfectly kissable pout. “No? Have you been to the doctor?”

“Not yet.”

“Emma,” he starts seriously as he glances back down at his mug, but whatever he says doesn’t reach her ears. When she looks up, she sees Neal making his way into the diner from the inn and she freezes.

She’s still reeling from last week, and she’s been avoiding him too. The more she looks back on it, the worse she feels. How could she let him do that? She knows that she should’ve been strong enough to shove him away before it became what it did.

It shouldn’t have gotten so out of hand. Does she tell Killian that Neal technically kissed her? It’s not as if it could hardly even be considered a kiss, and it’s not like she kissed him back, but still. Doesn’t he have the right to know?

“Like now, for example,” she finally hears him say.

“Huh?”

“Precisely my point, love, I was just saying that you seem distracted. Emma, something is clearly bothering you. And whatever it is—”

“I’m fine.”

“— _whatever it is_ ,” he says more pointedly, “please just know that I’m… I’m here.”

She draws her brows together and finally meets his eyes with hers when Ruby sets her mug of hot chocolate down in front of her with a wink.

“Whatever it is, I’ll support you in any way that I can, however you’ll let me. You can tell me anything.”

_Shit_.

One glance into his deep blue eyes and she knows that he’s telling the truth.

“Killian…” she starts, sighing, reaching down for her mug and pulling it up to her nose.

While she may have had every intention of talking things through with him, or maybe asking if they can talk in private later, she takes one whiff of her favorite drink and knows that that isn’t going to happen.

Her eyes widen and her face must pale immediately. She feels her whole body start to shake and sweat as bile rises to her throat. She puts the mug down too urgently, sending the hot beverage sloshing over the sides, and stands with such force that the table is shoved towards him before she’s up and running to the lady’s room.

She bursts through the door and doesn’t even have the sense to lock it— in fact she’s lucky that it was unoccupied— before she’s over the toilet and heaving into it, despite her stomach being empty. She knows she should be trying to eat something in the morning, but she can’t stomach anything, and it doesn’t seem to make any sense anyway when she’s heaving up anything and everything less than an hour later.

Once she finally finishes evicting everything she’s ever eaten, she sits back against the wall and closes her eyes, taking in a few breaths before she opens them and reaches for some toilet paper to wipe her mouth and nose. It’s only once she starts blowing her nose that she notices Killian standing to her left behind the closed door.

“Fuck!” she jumps, accidentally blowing her nose with so much force that she can feel it in her eyes.

“Emma, what the bloody hell is going on?”

She slowly and unsteadily stands up and tosses the soiled tissue into the toilet before she quickly moves to flush it in hopes that he didn’t see its contents, then says, “I told you I’m fine.”

“But you’re clearly not fine, love. You’ve been avoiding me. And you couldn’t even smell your hot chocolate without being violently sick.”

“Please don’t say the word chocolate right now.”

“And it looks like the hot chocolate might’ve burned your hand.”

“ _Killian._ ”

“ _Emma_.”

“I’ll go to the doctor,” she concedes as her stomach jumps. “I will. I just… I have to do something first.”

She’s never seen him look so worried and defeated. “What can I do?”

“Nothing, you’ve done enough,” she says snidely and then regrets it, knowing that it’s unfair of her to blame him. Afterall, she did tell him that she was taking a magical pill that would make it near impossible for him to impregnate her.

Turns out it only works like magic if she uses it. Curse her evidently insanely fertile self.

He sighs, “let me at least get you some water, love?”

She sighs, too, and a sea of familiar guilt washes over her. Finally, she quietly responds, “that would be nice, thank you.”

She knows that she needs to go to work soon anyway, so when he comes back, she chugs the water and hopes that it’ll go through her by the time she gets to the station.

~~~~

Emma Swan is pregnant. By accident. Again.

At least she’s on the other side of the cell this time around.

She took all three tests, and all three read positive; two produced that second pink line and one clearly read the word _pregnant_ before the two-minute timers she set on her phone even went off. She doesn’t want to leave them in the trash can at the station for fear that someone may somehow find them, so they're sitting in her desk drawer. With her head laying on her crossed arms, she stares so hard that she practically burns a hole through the top of her desk above the drawer that contains them. So far today, she’s gotten exactly no work done.

“Make any headway on that paperwork?” her father asks ironically as he enters the office. She had asked if he could take on patrol so that she could get caught up.

“Kind of,” she answers quietly, fearful that her voice could give out at any second.

“Hey,” he starts, taking a seat at his desk across the room from her. “I wanted to talk to you about… about last Thursday.”

“What about last Thursday?” she asks, sitting up slightly and finally peeling her eyes away from the drawer of secrets.

“I wanted to… apologize. For the way I acted at your dinner. About… about Hook.”

She raises a brow in surprise, pursing her lips and nodding her head lightly. She supposes that this day actually _can_ engender more surprises. “Wow,” she says simply.

“I know I may not be his biggest fan, but Snow and I talked, and we realized that it must be pretty helpful for you to have someone you consider to be a friend right now.”

She nods softly, considering this. “Yeah, it is.”

“I guess you can’t be sharing everything with Neal, huh?” he asks in jest. She draws her brows in now, confusion likely written all over her face. “Just a joke,” he chuckles. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell our significant others everything.”

_Woah._ She physically backs herself away from him. “Neal? Neal isn’t my boyfriend,” she’s cut off by the ringing phone, which David almost immediately answers, humming and nodding at the person on the other end.

“Another moose in the road,” he eventually says. “You wanna take this one?”

She huffs violently at her inability to fully correct her father but nods, needing to get out of the office and into the fresh air. She can also take the opportunity to go home and get some crackers. She gets up quickly and grabs her huge bag, opening the accursed drawer and using her own body to shield the image of her shoving in the positive tests from her father’s view.

~~~~

The moose found his way home without her help, so she heads back to the loft sooner than expected and finds Mary Margaret occupying it.

“Hi honey,” she says with a sweet smile from the kitchen.

Emma drops her uncharacteristically massive bag on a table by the door before calling back, “hi.”

“Want something to eat?” Emma nods and makes to turn around before her foot kicks into the leg of the table and sends her bag, along with its contents, flying to the floor.

All of its contents. Wallet, phone, keys, and three positive pregnancy tests.

“Whoops! Let me help you get—”

“ _No!_ ”

She hears Mary Margaret gasp loudly before she shuts her eyes and shoves her hands over her face. She’s suddenly feeling nauseous due to anxiety rather than pregnancy, and she almost laughs at the irony.

“Emma, are you—” she doesn’t finish her thought. She doesn’t need to, because when Emma peeks out from behind her fingers, she sees Mary Margaret holding a test in her hand. The one that spells out the word _pregnant,_ clear as day _._ “Oh, honey.”

Normally, if she wasn’t full of raging hormones, she would have handled the situation with grace and perhaps a bit of sarcasm. But alas, these are not normal times and she is, in fact, full of raging hormones. So, what does she do? Why, the only thing she seems capable of lately, aside from vomiting a peeing frequently. She starts to cry.

_Of course._

She doesn’t move her hands away from her face because she immediately begins to feel the clenching around her heart, her throat practically closing and her eyes burning. Tears begin to fall immediately and she chokes out a sob.

Her mother’s disappointment was clear in her voice, and Emma can’t even think about what she’s doing before she sinks down to the floor, pathetically holding her middle.

“Emma!” she exclaims with a soft chuckle, suddenly in front of her and holding onto her elbows. “Emma, up off the floor! It’s alright, you don’t have to cry!” Emma can’t bear to hear what she has to say, because she knows that she’s being judged for getting pregnant by a man her parents hate.

“I—” she starts, but can’t finish, another sob wracking her body.

“Emma, it’s okay, this is a blessing! You two are going to make fabulous parents together. And Henry will be a big brother!”

“You think—” she chokes, “you think so?” She can’t imagine this to be true. Since when did Mary Margaret start to approve of Killian? Emma supposes she hasn’t been as discreet as she had hoped with all of her sneaking out, because apparently Mary Margaret knew all along.

“Oh sweetheart, I know so!” Emma nods, sniffling and wiping tears off of her cheeks. “Was it… planned?”

“Hell no,” Emma scoffs with a roll to her eyes. “None of this was. It all just sort of… happened.”

“When did it… start happening?”

“On the way back from Neverland,” Emma says softly, pathetically. Mary Margaret nods, a sneaky smile crossing her face.

“Well I just know that you two—” before she has a chance to finish, there’s a crash and a scream outside and she’s cut off.

“Ugh,” Emma exclaims, blowing her nose with a tissue that Mary Margaret had reached for. “I should check on that.”

“Just,” Mary Margaret starts, a worried look playing at her features. “I know you're the sheriff but please be careful. I’m assuming you haven’t been to the doctor yet?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “you're right. I’ll be careful.”

“And take some crackers, they’ll help settle your stomach.”

~~~~

She freezes when she steps outside. And then she laughs at her own little joke, because she’s standing on a narrow sheet of ice that leads in a trail down the street— in the first week of November. And while Maine is pretty cold, she doesn’t think it’s _that_ cold.

She follows the trail down Main Street, sleeve of Saltines in hand, and thinks that it’s leading to the edge of town when she feels the earth tremble. When she looks out by the harbor, she notices a thick white wall rising erratically from the sea. So much for no emergencies in Storybrooke.

“Swan!” she hears, and she turns to see Hook running out of Granny’s towards. “Swan, you alright?”

“Yeah,” she says, turning to the harbor again. “Not sure what’s going on, but I’m assuming something’s happening around the town line.”

“Are you heading out there now?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me go with you?” he asks desperately.

“Killian…”

“Please Swan,” he starts, his eyes doing that thing again where he looks sadder than anyone she’s ever seen. “I just saw your father heading towards the Queen’s office. You need backup, let me help you.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s also fighting off a smile. “You aren’t even on the force.”

“Make me an honorary deputy, then,” he says with a flirty smile.

“Stop watching westerns. How do you even have access to TV?” He shrugs and she rolls her eyes. “Fine, let’s go,” she responds in haste, turning back towards her Bug.

They spent the ride relatively quiet, and she’s glad that he doesn’t ask her again how she’s been feeling, but she knows she probably should’ve taken the opportunity to tell him what’s been going on. Then again, maybe driving into an unknown and potentially dangerous situation isn’t the best time to tell someone that they're about to be a father.

By the time they reach the town line, she can see the white wall standing tall and preventing anyone from leaving.

“What the hell?” she wonders out loud as she steps out of the car.

“My thoughts exactly, love.”

They walk around for a few minutes, taking in the scene and pretending they know what they're doing. The wall is at least 30 feet high and, while she has no idea how thick it could be, she knows it would likely be foolish to try and get through it.

Kicking a fallen piece of ice, she sighs. “I don’t know.” She tucks her hands into the pockets of her brown leather jacket and pulls it closed over her belly. It’s freezing over here by the wall of ice.

“Aye, love. Very mysterious.” Before she knows it, he’s next to her and looking up, squinting so she can just see a sliver of blue. “Guess I should’ve brought some champagne.”

She chokes on her own breath before looking up at him. “ _What?”_

He smirks. “We have the world’s largest ice bucket here. And I was planning on asking you something.”

She freezes, turning to him and facing him head on. “What?”

“I wanted to ask you,” he starts, stepping closer to her and reaching his hand up to her face and brushing a piece of hair away. “If you would do me the honor of joining me for dinner.”

Wouldn’t it be ironic if she began vomiting right now?

She doesn’t. Although she does feel her heartbeat quicken and her body suddenly feels hot, especially in her stomach.

“Killian,” she says hesitantly.

“I know, I know.” He reaches down towards her collarbone and gently touches the chain around her neck, pulling the dangling diamonds out from beneath her shirt and smiling. “But I don’t think much needs to change between us, darling.” _Boy, does he have another thing coming,_ she thinks. “And I know things are complicated with your family, but you did say that you would consider it, so maybe I just hoped to remind you to. I know what I want, love; I want you. I just hope I’ve made that clear and that you might feel the same way for me.”

And really, it’s not like she could’ve had any other response. He’s made a perfectly worded, perfectly timed speech, so of course her pregnant self starts crying.

“Oh, no love, please don’t cry. It’s alright,” he starts, wiping a tear away as his face falls. “If you—if you don’t want that with me, it's alright.” She thinks she hears his voice catching in the back of his throat and starts crying a bit harder, a sob escaping her lips. “If that’s why you’ve been distant…”

“No, Killian, it’s not that, I just… I do. I want that.”

“Aye?”

“Yeah,” she responds, and she sees his eyes lighting up. “It’s just that… well, there are things that… something happened, Killian, and I don’t know if you’ll feel the same way when you find out that—”

“Emma!”

_No._

“Emma? Emma! What the hell?” Neal is shouting as he parks Mary Margaret’s station wagon and gets out. Wait, _Mary Margaret’s station wagon?_

“Neal?”

“Everyone, remain still!”

Everyone turns to the source of the new voice and jumps. Out of nowhere, a beautiful tall woman with a long blonde braid and an icy blue dress emerges from the ice wall.

Her presence certainly wasn’t very commanding, but she appears to be the one who put up the massive wall of ice around the entire town, based on the trail following her, so Emma figures it’s probably a good idea to listen to her.

“Hello,” Emma says cautiously with a sniffle, backing away slightly and closer to Killian.

“Emma, we need to talk.”

“Neal, does this look like a good time to you?” she snaps.

“Your mom told me.”

She falters, freezing in place again, and it really can’t be good for her body (or for the baby?) for her heart to be stopping and starting like this.

“ _What?_ ”

“Everyone needs to halt immediately!”

“Emma, love,” Killian starts, and she turns to him with desperation in her eyes.

“She told me _congratulations_ on the _baby._ Emma, what the hell is she talking about? If we did anything on your birthday, I was really drunk. You need to tell me if anything happened—”

“ _Baby?!”_

“Neal!”

“Stop!”

Before she knows it, the ground is shaking again, and while she initially started to take a step towards Neal, possibly to beat him up, she’s now spun around. She’s heading towards the unpredictably enigmatic woman with her hands up as the terrain continues to shake. “It’s alright.”

“Stay back! Everyone be quiet! I need to find my sister!”

“Okay,” Emma says, taking another step. “We’ll help you.”

“Emma, come back, love!”

“It’s okay,” she starts to say again, but the earth is shaking harder and suddenly she’s being knocked to the ground as another wall is upraised around her.

~~~~

Emma doesn’t quite fall unconscious, but she thinks she might have come close. Her ears are ringing and her head is pounding, but she’s finally starting to see things clearly around her. She’s definitely inside some kind of ice cave, and as if that wasn’t apparent enough already, she starts to shiver. A leather jacket with some leggings is certainly not an ideal outfit for this kind of sudden and unexpected weather change.

She pulls the jacket tightly around her belly again, hoping that she can maybe protect the baby from the cold. Looking around, she sees the woman standing a few feet from her, looking somewhere between angry and scared. “Hello,” Emma starts. “What’s your name?”

The woman startles at the sound of her voice and makes eye contact, and Emma is certain that she can see fear in them. “Elsa,” she answers firmly.

“Elsa, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Emma.” The woman nods brusquely before spinning around nervously. “I just found out today that I’m pregnant.” It dawns on her that the first time she utters the words out loud is to a stranger who could very easily kill her.

Elsa turns back towards Emma, the anger and resolve in her face evaporating completely. “You did?”

“Yes. But the father doesn’t know. Or, I guess he kind of just found out. But I’d really like the opportunity to tell him myself.”

She nods again, her hands ringing together. She’s clearly scared and nervous, and whatever she built the ice wall for was just an act to show them that she’s powerful. “The man in the dark clothes?”

Emma smiles at her and nods, though she’s starting to shiver harder. “That’s the one.”

“Well then what was the other man doing? He seemed angry.”

Emma sighs and rolls her eyes but lets out a chuckle. “He is. He and I were together 12 years ago, and he doesn’t seem to understand that it’s over.”

Elsa rolls her eyes as well. “Most men don’t seem to understand much.” Emma lets out a snort and nods in agreement as her teeth begin to chatter. “My sister was supposed to be getting married. Her betrothed and your husband seem very similar in their nobility.”

“Oh,” Emma says in surprise. “Hook isn’t my husband.”

“Oh, sorry. Well, either way, he clearly loves you.”

Rather than answer her, Emma shoves the thought as deep as she can and chuckles nervously, changing the subject completely. “You said you were looking for your sister?”

“Yes.” The tenacity is back.

“Well, I’m the sheriff here. That means I have resources that can help you. I just need to get out of here first. It seems like you may have trapped us in here by accident, but do you think you can let us out?”

She stills and appears to think Emma’s offer over. “You can really help me find Anna?”

“I’ll do whatever I can.” She certainly can’t guarantee anything, but she’s starting to like this Elsa, in a weird, possibly Stockholm Syndrome type of way.

“Alright, stand back.”

When Emma focuses back on the wall, she can hear shouting. She can only imagine what a mess Neal must have made by now.

Elsa seems to focus too, and there’s suddenly a loud buzzing hum and a forceful light coming from her hands as she points them towards the wall. A hole big enough for Emma to crawl through forms quickly, and she can hear the shouting grow louder.

“Emma!” she hears Killian call, and she walks towards the hole and crouches down before starting to crawl to the other side. He’s crouching too, and once she reaches the outside, she takes his hand and falls into his hold. He breathes out a sigh of relief, as does she, and helps her into a standing position and holds her body tightly to his. She feels warmer already.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks into her neck, and she closes her eyes and reaches her hand up to his hair and nods. “I was so worried.”

“I’m alright,” she says back quietly, taking time to steady her breathing and warm up against his body heat.

He notes that she’s still shivering— she’s surprised that her teeth haven’t cracked from the force of their chattering— so he steps away from her slightly and he removes his own jacket and places it around her shoulders, rubbing up and down her left arm. His eyes meet hers intently and she smiles.

“It would seem—”

“Emma, you okay?”

She groans. Looking past Killian, Emma sees Neal looking both furious and worried at the same time. Killian’s hand slides from her arm, but she catches it in hers before he can remove it from her.

“I’m fine. I’m gonna go to the doctor.”

“Let me take you,” Neal says in a commanding tone.

“No, Killian’s taking me.”

“I am?”

“Yes.”

“But Emma, you and I need to talk.”

“You're right, Neal, we do. I’ll start. I really don’t appreciate you coming over here and screaming about things that have nothing to do with you. Nothing happened on my birthday, unless you count the fact that you basically assaulted me. And even if anything did happen, that was _a week ago._ Do you even know how reproduction works?” His face is priceless, and she feels a sense of relief wash over her as she finally stands up for herself. “I can’t believe that you came out here and announced my pregnancy before I had a chance to,” she mutters. She feels Killian’s hand tighten around hers for a second before he lets it fall, and when she turns to him, his face is blank. “Killian, I’d like it if you and I could talk in private,” she says to him more softly. “Neal, don’t talk to my mom about this.”

~~~~

The car is completely silent for a few minutes once Emma starts driving. She fights the urge to glance over at Killian several times before she finally gives in, and she immediately wishes she hadn’t. In the second she’s able to look at him, she’s met with his anger and frustration that she knows must be rooted in the regret he feels. She knows this must be difficult for him to process, and now she’s dragging him along with her to see a doctor. She doesn’t even know if he’ll want to be in this baby’s life, so she’s realizing that it’s selfish of her to force him along.

The truth is, she never really thought of her other options. She knows that, realistically, she doesn’t have to have this baby. But the thought to abort or abandon it never crossed her mind. She can’t do to this baby what she did to Henry.

Killian doesn’t have to worry about that, thought.

“Killian—” she starts, but it’s as if the sound of her voice elicits something in him.

“What did he do to you?” he asks. His voice is so low and dark that it makes her feel nervous.

“What?” She looks over again and sees that he’s staring straight ahead at the changing leaves. 

“On your birthday. You said he assaulted you.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding, her feelings of compunction growing stronger in the pit of her stomach. “It’s not really a big deal, I was being dramatic. He was drunk. He grabbed me and then he knocked us over onto his bed and tried to kiss me. But it was only a second, Killian. I didn’t do anything with him, I swear.” He’s quiet for a second, and it’s the longest second of her life.

“ _Fuck_ , Emma, what the hell?” He’s looking at her now, and in the brief second that she glances at him, she sees fire in his eyes.

“I’m sorry. But nothing happened, I promise. He just tried to kiss me for a second and I pushed him away.” Her palms are sweating on the steering wheel and her heart is hammering in her chest, her stomach twisted and her head pounding.

“I’m not mad at _you_ , love. He attacked you! How are you so equable over this?”

“It’s like I said, nothing happened. I pushed him, probably bruised a kidney, and I got the hell out of there. I didn’t do anything with him.”

“I don’t care about that, Emma. I’m not mad because I think you did something with him. I can’t believe that you were put in a position where you had to defend yourself like that! And against _him!_ ”

“What do you mean?” she asks hesitantly as she pulls into the lot of the hospital and parks her car.

“I _mean_ … I mean he’s the father of your child and he’s behaving in such a predatory way towards you that you felt that you needed to bruise his kidney and flee.” She’s silent. She knows now that he’s angrier with Neal than he is with her, but he sounds so livid that it sort of feels like she’s being scolded.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says quietly, because she honestly doesn’t know what else to say to placate him.

“Please don’t say that, love,” he asks, more like begs, as he finally turns away from the scene ahead of him and looks at her. “I’m sorry that I made you feel like you need to apologize. You don’t, darling, truly.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “But do you know… fuck. Do you know how many thoughts ran through my head in the ten minutes that you were in that cave?” She knows that he’s asking hypothetically, but she shakes her head anyway. “I’ve never been so scared in my entire life.”

“That can’t be true,” she scoffs. He’s been alive for centuries; she knows he must have felt scared before.

“Of course it is, Emma.” He turns away, his face hardened and his brows drawn together. “Within a span of thirty seconds I find out that you're pregnant and that it might be Neal’s, then you disappear into an ice cave and I have no way to get to you.”

“It’s not,” she starts immediately, stunned by his statement. “It’s not Neal’s.”

He turns again, and she realizes now that she hasn’t actually said the words to him. She hasn’t really had much of a chance to say them out loud at all.

“Emma,” he says, his tone begging again, and it causes her heart to clench so hard that her fingers start to tingle.

“I’m pregnant.” His face nearly crumbles, his brows drawing close together while somehow still looking more worried than she’s ever seen him. “You’re the only person I’ve been with—I mean, you're the only person I want to be with. The baby… it’s… you're the father, Killian.”

He doesn’t say anything, and she thinks she may have done the impossible and stunned Killian Jones into silence. He reaches across himself and picks up her left hand in his right and draws it up to his mouth, pressing his lips to it firmly and keeping them there. She can feel his breath coming out quickly and forcefully, as if he has to remind himself to breathe, and it feels like he’s seconds away from breaking down.

“I realize that this is a lot to take in, and we’ve never had a conversation about whether you're even staying in Storybrooke.” She has to push the words out of her mouth, knowing that they need to be said. “But, if you don’t want to be in his life, then I’m giving you an out.”

“ _What?_ ” he chokes out. She didn’t think she could watch his face fall any further.

“If you want out, just say the words. I know this wasn’t the plan for us.” He scoffs and her heart drops to her stomach, but she holds herself together in preparation for his words.

“If you think I’m going anywhere without you and this baby, then you are absolutely mad.”

“Really?” she asks tentatively, looking up from their hands to meet his eyes.

“Aye,” he breathes out. “I’m sorry, love, if I’ve ever given you the impression that I would abandon you like that. I was planning on staying here as long as you would have me anyway, before all of this.”

“You were?”

He smiles at her, the kind of smile that she sees in her dreams, and nods. “Did you say _his_?”

She smiles a bit, too, and nods back. “I don’t know the sex yet, it’s too early. But I’ve always seen myself as a boy mom.” He breathes out a laugh now.

“Mom,” he repeats, squeezing her hand and kissing it softly.

“Dad,” she teases back, and she smiles because now she’s affording herself the privilege of imagining him with a little bundle in his arms.

“You were in that frozen cave for a bit. We should get you checked, aye, love?”

“Aye,” she responds, and he chuckles and kisses her hand again.

~~~~

When they're finally called in, after mountains of paperwork and questions and what feels like hours of waiting, Emma lies down on the exam table while Killian sits stiffly on the chair near her head.

“Bet this isn’t where you thought you’d end up when you woke up this morning,” she jokes, and he lets out a huff in response.

“Certainly not, Swan. You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Mhmm,” she hums, patting her belly lightly. He glances down at her hand covering her belly and she wonders if this is all becoming too real for him, because it certainly is for her. She tries to force away the lingering thoughts that he could still leave them, knowing that the thoughts are born from her own experiences and are not based on his actions so far.

The technician comes in a few moments later and gets Emma ready for her ultrasound. She explains that it’s probably a bit early for an abdominal sonogram, and Killian’s eyes bug out of his head when she prepares for the transvaginal scan. Emma lets out a snort and takes his hand in hers without asking. He squeezes back.

After a few moments of searching and measuring, the technician finally settles in one spot and gestures towards the screen at the black and white mess. She presses a few buttons and takes a few more measurements, then says, “there’s your baby!”

Killian turns immediately, staring over to the screen with a pensive look on his face. The technician points out the head, making mention of the _crown rump length_ and how it indicates that she’s measuring at just under 7 weeks.

All Emma can see is a gray blob within another black blob, that lives inside another gray blob. She’s never felt such an emotional connection to a blob, and she notes how differently she feels this time around.

When she hears the heartbeat, a quick and hardy _whoosh_ taking over the quiet room, she nearly loses it.

Her eyes are stinging when she looks at their baby on the screen and hears the powerful heartbeat, but she starts crying when she glances over at Killian and sees that he has tears running down his own cheeks.

“Your baby is about the size of a blueberry,” the technician says, holding up two fingers to demonstrate just how tiny the blob is. Emma nods, wiping a tear away, then looks back to Killian and squeezes his hand again.

He lets out a tear-sodden laugh and squeezes back, then reaches their hands up so he can wipe tears away. “I can’t believe how much that little bugger has aged me already.”

Emma laughs now too, using her free hand to wipe her own cheeks, and the technician smiles up at them. She prints a few pictures off and tells them that everything looks good, and that the doctor will be in to talk to them shortly.

When Emma’s new obstetrician, Dr. Morgan, enters the room, she greets them happily and congratulates them on their good news. She explains that the baby appears healthy despite Emma’s earlier misadventures and her taking birth control before she found out, and gives them a due date— June 16th, a summer baby.

They’re walking hand in hand out to the car, and they’re both wearing the biggest, goofiest smiles that they can muster. By the time they get back to the car, though, she starts to feel like she’s returning to real life.

“I know that this is a lot,” she starts as he takes her hand again, “and the baby was certainly a surprise, but he’s not a mistake. I haven’t known for very long and I was feeling really dreadful, but now that I’ve seen him… I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more in my life.”

“Aye,” he breathes again. “I understand what you mean. As soon as Baelfire said baby, I felt like my life changed all at once. I didn’t even know if it was mine or his, but I didn’t care. And now that I know, I realize that I’ve never felt… I just… I love him. Or her. It seems completely mad, but I love him.”

She nearly cries again at the sound of his voice choking and at his own words, but she nods instead, understanding completely how instantly he must have fallen in love with the tiny embryo she’s growing because that’s exactly what happened to her. “It isn’t mad.”

He moves her hand up to his forehead and leans against it for a moment, as if taking space to process things for himself, before he lifts his head and meets her eyes with his.

“Killian,” she says once she has her hand back and is able to start the engine.

“Aye, darling?”

“My mom…” Killian stares up at her expectantly, and he clearly has no idea what she’s talking about as she’s changed the subject. “She thinks it’s Neal’s. I think she might know that I’ve been sneaking out at night, but she must think I’ve been going to see him.”

“I see,” he starts, nodding his head pensively and pinching his bottom lip between two fingers in a way that drives her mad. “What shall we do?”

She hums, considering this. “I think I’m gonna go talk to her. And I think you might need to do some planning.”

“Planning for what love? Surely, we have enough time before the blueberry arrives,” he says with a nervous chuckle.

“Not for that,” she responds with a grin. “For dinner. That is, if you still want to go to dinner?”

His face splits into another grin so bright and vivid that she feels her stomach clench, his eyes squinting and his pearly teeth shining in the sunlight. “The day I answer _no_ to that question is the day I’ve lost my mind.”

She hums out a small laugh and says, “good. And don’t change. I forgot to tell you how much I like your new look.”

~~~~

Arriving at home after dropping Killian off at the docks feels strange. She sits in her car for a few minutes in an attempt to ready herself for confrontation until she has to pee so badly that she needs to go upstairs.

“Emma, hi,” Mary Margaret starts once she emerges from the bathroom.

“Hi,” she says back.

“Neal… well he stopped by and told me that you went to the doctor.” Apparently, she doesn’t need to dance around this.

“Did he?” Mary Margaret nods, and Emma can tell by the look on her face that she has more to say but she’s holding back. “Did he say anything else?”

“He told me I should talk to you. He seemed… angry. Emma, if you told him and he reacted badly—”

“Neal isn’t the father.”

It would appear, based on her facial expression, that Mary Margaret was expecting to hear absolutely anything else come out of Emma’s mouth. She actually stands before Emma with her mouth hanging open and her eyes bugging out as if this was the most phenomenal news she’s ever heard in her life.

Which can’t conceivably be true. She’s literally Snow White. She was cursed by the Evil Queen and didn’t age for 28 years. She sent her minutes-old infant through a portal using a magic tree. This cannot possibly be that surprising.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She’s still standing there like a trout with her mouth hanging open before she must realize what she’s doing and snaps it shut. Emma follows her with her eyes as she moves towards the kitchen and pulls out another sleeve of Saltines, apparently the only thing she can eat this week, before sitting at the counter, waiting for her mother to break herself out of her shock.

“I thought… Emma, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything to Neal. I thought he was…”

“I should’ve been clearer. Although I thought that I have been clear for the last few weeks that I'm not interested in him and that we aren’t together.”

“No, Emma, I overstepped. I shouldn’t have gone to him about it at all. When he came here and I said congratulations to him, I knew right away that it was a mistake because I could tell that you hadn’t told him. Now… well, now I know why.”

“He came here?”

“He came looking for you. I assumed it was about the crash we heard.”

Emma nods in understanding. Mary Margaret has pulled herself together a bit and takes a seat in the stool next to Emma. “So, when he started freaking out, you let him borrow your car to come see me.”

“Right.” She nods again. “I’m so sorry, honey. I never should have said anything. I was just so excited for you, and when I thought that Henry was going to have a little brother or sister—”

“Henry _is_ going to have a little brother or sister. Just because they don’t have the same dad doesn’t make that any less true.”

“You're right,” her mother sighs. “Of course, you're right. I’m sorry, this is all just a lot of information for one day.”

“For me, too,” Emma agrees. Then she reaches into her pocket and smiles when she feels the glossy paper, pulling out the sonogram pictures. “Wanna see him?”

“Him?” she questions, taking the photo and grinning. She reaches one hand up and places a gentle finger over her blueberry sized blob.

“I don’t know yet, that’s just what we’ve been saying,” Emma says with a grin, looking down at the new picture her mother flips to.

“Wait,” Mary Margaret says, resting the photos on the counter and looking up to meet Emma’s eyes with her matching ones. “If Neal isn’t the father, who is?”

It’s Emma’s turn to drop her jaw in shock, surprised that her mother isn’t able to put the pieces together. “Seriously? It’s Killian.”

“Ki— _Hook?!”_

“Yeah, Hook. And if you say anything negative about the father of my child—”

“No, no, that’s… I mean… it certainly is a shock… but…”

Emma rolls her eyes now, shoving another cracker into her mouth before getting up for some water. “Is it though? I know we haven’t been that secretive. I’ve been out, like, three nights a week.”

“I know,” she says, confirming Emma’s suspicions that she’s known all along. “I just thought you were going to Granny’s. I didn’t realize you were going to the pier instead. But are you… are you _sure_ about him?”

Emma sits again as she considers her answer to this question carefully. A big part of her is telling her that it hasn’t been long enough to know. However, while she wouldn’t admit it out loud, and while she’s anxious to even admit it to herself, a much smaller part of her knows that _yes_ , she is sure about him. Seeing his reaction to seeing their baby for the first time, to hearing the strong heartbeat, solidified that knowledge into her brain. So she looks over to her mother and smiles, nodding confidently.

Their conversation comes to a halt when David arrives at home, towing Elsa behind him. Emma’s somewhat surprised to see her, but assumes that she and David got to talking and he decided to take her in.

He greets his wife and daughter with kisses to their heads, then turns to Emma with a look that she’s grown all too familiar with: concern.

“Neal dropped Elsa off at the station and she told me all about her sister. She also told me that you two went to the doctor because you got trapped in an… ice cave? Are you alright?”

“Oh, no David, Neal wasn’t the one she went to the doctor with. It was her—”

“Dad,” Emma jumps in immediately, fearful that Elsa may say something that Emma would regret. “I’m fine. I went to the doctor and everything is fine.”

“Did you figure out why you’ve been so sick lately? Weird that none of us has caught it yet, isn’t it?”

“Not as weird as you may think,” Mary Margaret says to him with a smirk shot Emma’s way. “Maybe you should sit down.”

Emma takes the sonogram pictures back from her mother and walks over to the couch, sitting down next to David as Elsa introduces herself to Mary Margaret and heads into the kitchen area with her. When Emma produces the photos and hands them to her father, she can see the shock in his eyes as they immediately glass over and a tear runs down his cheek.

“Really?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion. Emma nods at him, a smile gracing her features as a fresh set of tears make their way into her eyes as well. He lets out a deep breath, running a finger along the blob in the photo the same way her mother did.

“I’m seven weeks along.” He lets out another breath, this one coalescing itself with a chuckle.

He finally looks up and meets her eyes before he says, “Congratulations, Emma.”

“Thank you,” she says back, wiping her cheeks.

“You and Hook must be very happy.” Her face drops in shock, her brows coming together and her mouth snapping shut before she cocks her head to one side. “I started to put the pieces together a bit ago, but this morning when I saw your face light up when I mentioned him, and then when you practically jumped down my throat for calling Neal your _significant other,_ I figured it out. Wasn’t expecting that you two would be… well, expecting, though.”

It’s Emma’s turn to let out a hearty chuckle followed immediately by a sniffle. “How come you figured it out and mom couldn’t?”

“I guess sometimes your dad just knows best,” he responds, grinning at her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug which she returns fervently.

~~~~

The week that passes sees Emma more nauseous and exhausted than she’s ever been. She remembers being pregnant with Henry quite well, and she never experienced symptoms this strongly, but she supposes that’s because her body was 12 years younger.

Her date with Killian went beautifully. He took her to a nice Italian restaurant, stating that he wasn’t sure what she could stomach, but he knew she could handle the bread. She was just happy that it was something other than Granny’s.

After dinner, Emma asked him to take her back to the Jolly Roger, citing that she can’t get the image of his ass in his tight black jeans out of her head and it’s driving her mad with lust. He chokes on his last sip of water and flags the server down immediately.

On their walk back to the pier, with her bundled in her winter parka and Killian comfortably sporting his modern leather jacket, she could feel the nerves that were radiating off of him and wondered how her pregnancy might change their sex life. They were _very_ active before she found out, after all. She realizes, though, that it’s already made adjustments here and there in that she spent a week avoiding him, during which she was far too nauseous to even consider any vigorous physical activity.

On this night, she felt confident enough in her ability to keep down her bland dinner of penne with butter and dinner rolls, but when they finally arrived on his ship and he nervously helped her down the stairs and onto his bunk, she was asleep before he even had a chance to light a few candles.

She hasn’t heard from Neal, but Henry has been to Granny’s for dinner with him. He’s asked her to come along, and it nearly crushes her to tell her son that she isn’t coming each time, but she can’t stomach the thought of being in the same room as his father. She’s hoping that someday soon she can get past her resentment towards him, but for now, she needs to take space away from him so that she can move on.

She still hasn’t told her parents about what happened all those years ago. She knows that both of them, particularly her mother, are struggling to see the logic behind her _choosing Hook over Neal,_ but she hasn’t found the time or desire to fill them in. And although her mother says she’s fine with the concept of Killian fathering her child, she can tell by the way she looks at and talks to her that she feels uneasy.

So here she finds herself, on a Friday evening laying in her bed at the top of the loft after a long nap— a follow up to a violent vomiting spell— listening in on her parents’ not-so-discreet conversation.

“I’m pleasantly surprised,” she hears her father say from the kitchen. “Although I was expecting the worst. I almost thought she was going to be on her own.”

“He still has plenty of time to leave her on her own, David,” her mother deadpans in response.

“I know, but I don’t honestly see that happening. And if it does, she’ll have us, and I’ll have another excuse to punch him in the face.” Emma finds herself smiling softly at her father’s words, whereas last week they may have drawn her from bed and straight down the stairs to give him a piece of her mind. But she knows now that he’s right.

Killian hasn’t given her any indication that he isn’t all in on this with her, even if things don’t work out between the two of them. He’s taken to reading pregnancy books, and on Tuesday, when she reached 8 weeks of gestation, he happily informed her that their blueberry has grown into a raspberry. She may eventually introduce him to the world of smart phones so that he can download all the tracker apps he wants.

“You're right, you're right. I don’t know why I’m having such a hard time with this.”

“She’s our daughter. No one will ever be good enough for her.”

“I know, but I just felt like Neal was enough. He was her first love… I guess I just thought the two of them would work things out eventually. I know he wasn’t there for her, but he didn’t know about Henry. Maybe if he knew, things would’ve turned out differently.”

Emma rolls her eyes but knows that it isn’t fair of her to be angry with her mother for thinking this way when she knows she has no idea about what actually happened with Neal.

“You have to let that go, Snow. You can’t change what’s already happened. And not everyone can be as lucky as we were.”

“I’m just having trouble trusting Hook. Trusting that he has her best interests in mind.”

“Well, maybe it’s time you choose to trust _Emma._ She’s a tough kid, has been all her life. She knows how to take care of herself. And she seems to trust him.”

“I know, you're right. I do trust her. And if she trusts him…”

Emma thinks about getting up now, but when she tries to move, she feels exhaustion taking over her again. So instead, she makes a mental note to finally talk to her parents before drifting off into another seemingly endless nap.

**Author's Note:**

> Part 3 is here! Thank you for reading- comments here and on tumblr are so appreciated! Serious, I freak out every time I read one. There will be one or two more part to this series before the story is technically finished, but I think I'll also add drabbles, extras, and some scenes in other points of view! 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @elizabeethan for updates!


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